


Credere Saltu, Per Tenebras

by literallymelchior



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Fallen Angels, Supernatural Elements, this took me so long to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literallymelchior/pseuds/literallymelchior
Summary: There were no ghosts coming to heal him, or to give him clarity. He wasn’t the ruler of his own thoughts, or of his impulses. All that rested in him was a dark, empty feeling that curled around his heart and settled there like a fragile wind.





	Credere Saltu, Per Tenebras

Melchior has no more sense of acceptance. He is drifting, never belonging. There is something about the tears that fell on the grass below him that seemed to shine and reflect on the grass, their careful beauty startling him out of his stupor.

 

There were no ghosts coming to heal him, or to give him clarity. He wasn’t the ruler of his own thoughts, or of his impulses. All that rested in him was a dark, empty feeling that curled around his heart and settled there like a fragile wind.  

 

The only thing Melchior could possibly do is stop crying, and get up, and simply leave, setting down his baggage and starting new again. But he couldn’t even move, because his legs were shaking and his hands were freezing, and he  _ still  _ felt tears running down his face.

 

But Melchior couldn’t just stay there and keep crying forever until he became a frozen tree, his branches curled around him as if he was protecting against his own demons. 

 

He had to be on his own. 

 

Melchior could no longer let his tears of grief just slip by him as if they were passing by to say hello. He was done crying for all he could never have. He was done grieving for all he has lost and has yet to find. 

 

He slowly got up and wiped the tears from his face and looked at his hands again. They were still shaking.

 

Melchior felt as if he was on fire, his heart burning and shriveling in heavenly judgement. God finally coming to Melchior and laying down His punishment for the horrible things he had done to Wendla, and to Moritz. 

 

Wendla. Moritz. Where were they? Were they in heaven, gazing down at him, pleading to God to lay down His holy fire on Melchior, to burn him from the inside. 

 

Were they in hell? Burning for the sins they did not know they committed, just because of some silly mistake? Were they cursing Melchior as they both burned at the stake for all the horrible things he had done?

 

Maybe they were somewhere in between. Maybe they were in the limbo, hidden in the darkness, their souls trapped in a place where they could not love, or move, or see.

 

Melchior really had to get up.

 

He managed to stand and walk a few steps before he felt a twinge behind his head. He turned around and grabbed his head, wincing softly.

 

Then there was a rushing darkness all around him and a soft, pulsing feeling behind his eyelids, causing him to fall again, his knees hitting the hard packed dirt. 

 

His hands were shaking more violently now.

 

The darkness seemed to rush at Melchior all at once, his senses turning off as suddenly as they came. His breath was torn out of his lungs, and he collapsed to the ground. 

 

“ _ I CAN'T BREATHE! PLEASE HELP, ANYONE, PLEASE! I CAN’T BREATHE, I CAN’T— _ “ Melchior grabbed at his throat violently and turned around, facing upwards, trying to reach something,  _ anything,  _ to help him breathe, to help him see.  

 

Then there was a flash of gold above Melchior, and his breath came at him all at once, his chest convulsing. He threw his hands over his eyes, trying to shield himself from the light that flashed in the sky like an explosion. 

 

He could still hear the beating of wings. 

 

The world suddenly went quiet, all at once. But there was no sound of crickets, or of the trees whispering in the wind. Only a void of silence.

 

Melchior opened his eyes and in the distance he could see a heap on the dirt floor, and the soft sounds of breath coming from its body. 

 

He got up shakily, and slowly moved towards the  _ thing  _ on the ground, his hand outstretched to touch it. 

 

But something happened. 

 

As Melchior’s hand touched the surface of the mass on the floor, he felt feathers.

 

_ Feathers. _

 

He was simply being delusional, right? He was just in shock, and he just needed to clear his head from all the shock that he had received. He just needed to get up, to shake his head, to  _ walk away.  _ But he couldn’t. He couldn’t—

 

And before he could react, Melchior was thrown asunder, his back slamming on the grass, and the thing  _ rose,  _ forming a person, and it flew upwards, its wings stretched out to the tips of the sky, of the world, filling Melchior’s vision with grey. 

 

She was not beautiful anymore.

Wendla was no longer the beautiful girl in white, or the girl who Melchior had known when she was alive.

 

She was a monster.

 

A monster that he could not believe, or think about. It wasn’t possible. 

 

The angel’s face seemed to stretch out in a terrifying way, and her wings were dirty and matted, stretching out above and behind her, moving without grace and full of rage. 

 

Melchior’s eyes suddenly filled up with tears. What had happened to the radiant girl who had left his life so suddenly as if she were just a flower, falling and falling so suddenly? She was no longer a ghost, or just a body without a soul. But above that grace was the tinge of frustration, causing his mind to tremble in fear

 

Melchior started to walk slowly backwards, so quiet that the angel could not hear his receding footsteps. He needed to run, to turn away, because this was not the Wendla he knew.  

 

The Wendla he knew was graceful, and her heart was constantly filled with unspeakable joy. It was beautiful to see her then, but not now. Not now.

 

Melchior was still facing her, his hands reaching for the girl he once knew, the one who he had loved so earnestly as if he could touch her and hold her again.

Wendla whipped around so suddenly that Melchior fell, his head smacking onto the packed dirt, his ankle singing in pain. He screamed, crawling backwards, trying to get away—

 

But Wendla grabbed his legs and pulled him towards her, her strength overpowering his fear. Melchior grabbed the weeds that sprouted on the floor, pulling himself up and kicking his legs away from Wendla’s grasp, his heart pounding in his chest.

 

“Let go of me! I don’t even know who you are anymore, you’re terrifying. Let go of me before I—“ Melchior was suddenly dropped to the floor, his legs thumping onto the grass. 

 

“You couldn’t even hurt me if you tried; my power is no match for your weakness, young boy.” 

 

“Young boy? What do you mean—you know me! I’m Melchior, remember? I’m Melchior, and you’re Wend—“

 

“ _ Don’t speak of that name.  _ I am no longer  _ Wendla.  _ That is a copy of me, of my  _ mortal life.  _ I am not the weak, foolish girl I was when I was alive. I am so much more, more than you and certainly—“

 

“Then what  _ are  _ you? What’s your name?” Melchior asked. Maybe if he could distract her, so he could just run away and forget about this, or somehow that this was just a bad dream, that he would wake up soon in his bed and dismiss it as a—

 

“My name is  Sariel.” She winced, feathers tumbling to the ground. “I am not supposed to be using my sacred name here on Earth; it jeopardizes the bond between the living and the dead world.” 

 

There was the bittersweet sound of silence, and Wendla slumped to the ground, her wings folding over themselves. It was a mundane gesture, her tiredness shining over the graceful manner of the way she carries herself.

 

“Have you seen—uhh, is Moritz up there?”

 

“Up…there?”

 

“Like, up in Heaven? Or whatever you call your, umm—“ God, Melchior was being so stupid. He was acting like he had just met Wendla, like he was a pubescent teenager with roaring hormones, wanting only to hold someone,  _ anyone— _

 

“I tried to convince him, Melchior, but he didn’t want to come. He didn’t want to  _ SEE _ you, for who you really are. He thinks that you’re not sorry that his body is now  _ gone,  _ ruined and destroyed to be forgotten by all who have ever known him.” 

 

Melchior couldn’t take it anymore. Moritz—his Moritz. His best friend, who had protected him and cared for him until he had no one left, no chance to recover from the hole he was in. The boy who had come to him for help, but who Melchior had ignored, and cast aside, and left to ponder in his own confusion, But now he was dead, and didn’t even want to see him. 

 

He didn’t want to see him one last time.

 

“But—he didn’t want—what do you mean?”

 

Wendla chuckled, her voice sharp and cutting. “He didn’t want to see you, Melchior. He blames you for the deaths you have caused. But he—“ Wendla suddenly dissolved into a fit of coughing and fell the the ground, her body shaking with the effort of trying to pull herself together. 

 

Melchior ran to Wendla, trying to grab her and help her up, but she pushed him away, her hand over her mouth. “No, you can’t—don’t  _ touch _ me. You can’t touch me anymore. But you have to listen to me. 

 

“Now, my time is almost up.” Wendla wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, blood staining her skin. “But you—you chose to remain silent in a crowd of fools. You had the chance to redeem the things you had lost—you had your challenge, and you  _ failed. _ But—“

 

“But what? What else do you have to say to me? There’s—I don’t even know what to do. There’s no task for me to do, or something big to realize. I don’t even—“

 

“Hush, child. There’s so much more you can do. I need you to convince people that I’m here, that I’ve been here. I have to—“ Wendla coughed again, her blood splattering the ground below her. 

 

“Leave? You have to leave? But I have—I have so many questions! I’m so confused, please don’t leave me, please—“

 

But she was gone.

 

The world was so silent—so quiet. 

 

It was like she was never even there.

**Author's Note:**

> this took me a little over two months to outline, write, and edit. all the hard work that it took to write one chapter was SO worth it! im really glad i was able to finish it and publish it now, and im super proud of it! this is kind of a beta chapter: im testing out the waters and seeing how this is going to go. please leave lots of comments, and give me some honest (and brutal) feedback; i really want this to be a good thing! this whole entire multi chapter fic is only going to be 12 to 14 chapters long, since i already have a general idea of how its going to turn out. 
> 
> i dont know when the next chapter will be out-maybe in a month or two, but who knows! i really hope you enjoy!


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